


Go Down With This Ship

by Writingwife83



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Drama & Romance, Dreams vs. Reality, F/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 08:24:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3889306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/pseuds/Writingwife83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock happens upon Molly's iPod after she's already left the lab. In the event of later boredom, he decides to listen to an intriguing playlist she's made. What follows is an interesting dream, complete with adventure, romance, and some revelations for the detective. It may be just what he needs in order to remember what's really important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go Down With This Ship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likingthistoomuch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likingthistoomuch/gifts).



> This is a song fic based on Dido's "White Flag" at the request of likingthistoomuch on Tumblr. It kind of ran away from me and went nuts, so hopefully you enjoy it! Would love to hear your thoughts. ;)

 

"You'll be fine here without me, right?" Molly asked as she slung her bag over her shoulder. "I just can't be late for Toby's appointment at the vet, and I still have to get back to the flat and get him in the carrier and-"

 

"Stop worrying, Molly!" Sherlock sighed. "Obviously I'll be fine in the lab without you. If I didn't respect your desire for job security, I'd come here all hours without your presence. Go! I'll put the supplies away and lock up," he assured her quickly, never removing his gaze from the microscope.

 

"Right." She gave him a quick smile. "Thanks, and I'll see you tomorrow I suppose."

 

"Mm...goodnight," he muttered, and a moment later he heard the door shut as she exited the room.

 

For a while he remained absorbed in continuing to analyze the substances that were attached to a murder suspect's jumper. After a while he took the trouble to lift his arm and look at his watch. Surprisingly, an hour had passed since Molly had left.

 

He got up, putting the necessary lab property away and collecting his things. When he'd finished and was just about to switch the light off, he noticed something small on the table.

 

As he got closer, he saw that the small shiny pink object was actually Molly's iPod. He picked it up and turned it over in his hand, seeing the little floral label adhered to the back which listed her contact information. Sherlock stuck it in his trouser pocket, along with the ear buds that were still attached, and left the lab.

* * *

 

 

Sherlock had been home for a couple of hours, and the night was getting late. He busied himself as best he could with a sample he's brought home from Bart's the day before. He became frustrated when the experiment wasn't going exactly as he wanted though, and he abandoned the project. He tossed his safety glasses onto the table and stalked out of the kitchen with an exaggerated sigh.

 

He collapsed in his chair by the fire, thinking about how intolerably boring it was around here tonight. He happened to know that the Watsons were out to dinner, hoping to enjoy a possibly final adult evening before they were graced with the presence of a third party. Mrs Hudson was out to the theater with some girlfriends. Even Lestrade was busy tonight...some sort of idiotic blind date. Clearly he was going to be stuck here with nothing to do but pick through his own brain.

 

He glanced over at his violin sitting by the window. Sherlock groaned aloud. He'd broken a string late last night, and had meant to buy a replacement today...but he'd forgotten. Now he couldn't even entertain himself with music!

 

That's when Sherlock shifted in his seat and remembered something. He frowned and reached into his trouser pocket, pulling out the small device with attached ear buds. He touched the button on the top, waking it from its peaceful slumber, and then Sherlock began casually scrolling through Molly Hooper's collection of music. There was a massive amount of music in the list of songs, so he realized it might be more interesting to peruse the playlists.

 

He saw a few with obvious titles, like "Exercise," "Breakups," "Relaxation," "Dad," and "Work." But then he saw one that caught his eye, simply because he wasn't sure what it meant. It was entitled, "CD."

 

He opened the playlist and looked at the couple dozen songs listed. Perhaps someone's initials? Though he couldn't think of anyone whose initials were CD. And although all the songs were by varying artists and from different albums, could they have all some from the same Compact Disk? Thus the CD playlist title.

 

Sherlock slowly reached down and picked up the ear buds from where they hung by the chair. He thought that perhaps it would help him figure out the reason for this playlist if he were to assess the type of music it contained. He placed the ear buds carefully in his ears and looked at the first song in the playlist...which also happened to be what had been currently playing when it was paused. He saw that the song had also been on repeat.

 

"How very telling, doctor Hooper," he whispered to himself, thinking that he'd found a nice little mystery to entertain himself with. He touched the play button as he spoke the song aloud. "White Flag by Dido...hmm."

 

He laid his head back and let the waves of notes wash over him. It had...an intriguing sound. He wasn't particularly repelled. So he listened to it, analyzing the words as his brain began to relax and slow a bit.

 

_I know you think that I shouldn't still love you, or tell you that. But if I didn't say it, well I'd still have felt it. Where's the sense in that?_

 

Before he knew it, the song was beginning again...and he let it play on.

 

_I will go down with this ship. I won't put my hands up and surrender. There will be no white flag above my door. I'm in love and always will be..._

Sherlock's eyes began to droop. His head fell lazily to the side and he stared up toward the mantel, his eyes focusing on his skull.

 

_I'll let it pass, and hold my tongue. And you will think that I've moved on...I will go down with this ship..._

His eyes closed completely. But for some strange reason, he felt as though they were still open. He could still see that skull...it was right there...so clear and big and bright...

 

* * *

 

Sherlock took a deep breath of the cool ocean air. As he lifted his eyes heavenward and stared at the waving black flag with skull in center, the sea breeze filled his lungs and he finally felt like he was home. How lovely it was to be back on his very own ship. And yet in the next moment...

 

Fist connected with face, and Sherlock Holmes fell to the deck of The Mystery.

 

"John!" Mary came rushing forward, tugging backward on John's arm.

 

Sherlock clutched at his jaw and pushed himself up to stand, watching the wildly furious expression on his best friend's face as he did. He looked ready to pounce again.

 

"What is the meaning of this?!" John bellowed.

 

Sherlock raised his palms upward and pursed his lips. "I am...alive."

 

"You- you're not! You died! We all saw you! We bloody buried you at sea!" John growled through clenched teeth.

 

Sherlock chuckled. "No, John! That wasn't me...obviously! I haven't learned to perform an escape quite like that. Well, not yet."

 

"Miss Hooper prepared your body!" he countered, still unable to accept what was right in front of him.

 

As if a spot light suddenly shone in the right direction, Sherlock's eyes found her.

 

There, behind some of the other crew members, leaning on in the doorway leading to below deck quarters, was Molly Hooper. She was shaking. He could see it even from where he stood. He could see how heavily her chest was rising and falling with each respiration. Her brown eyes were wide and her chestnut hair whipped around her face as she stared back at him. Her white nightdress billowed out from under the dressing gown that had clearly been thrown on in panicked haste.

 

"Yes..." he said in a softer tone, his eyes still connected to hers. “She prepared the body that was meant to be me."

 

"You hurt him. You hurt everyone," Mary said, still standing at John's side.

 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "And you are?"

 

"Mary, John's wife. I'm glad to meet you, sir."

 

Sherlock laughed. "Well then, what are you complaining about, Watson? You've got yourself a wife while I've been away! It seemed to me this was always your intent anyway. Piracy and seeking hidden treasure always did have a way of cutting into your time with the young ladies." He made a humorous glance at the rest of the crew and they snickered.

 

"That's _Captain_ Watson, Sherlock! I've been the captain of this ship since you...were gone. And as captain, I want you off this ship right now! I'm so angry; I can't even bear to look at you!"

 

"Where is he supposed to go? We're miles out at sea, darling," Mary reminded him gently.

 

"I don't care where he goes, Mary! We can bury him at sea again right now for all I care!"

 

"Oh, come on! Admit it," Sherlock said with a smirk as he strolled confidently over to John and Mary. "You have missed this."

 

Sherlock's world went completely dark again a split second later as John's forehead crashed into his face.

 

* * *

 

Sherlock's eyes fluttered open and he realized he was inside. His hand flew to his face and pain registered as he touched his nose.

 

"Don't touch, I'm just cleaning it up," the soft voice said.

 

_God, it felt like forever since he'd heard that voice._

 

He opened his eyes fully and turned slightly to see Molly leaning over him with a damp rag. Her lips twisted in a small, but slightly hesitant smile. She brushed a wave of hair out of her face as she continued her work of wiping the blood from his nose. He barely noticed the pain anymore and was somewhat transfixed. He was seeing her for the thousandth time, and yet it was also as if he'd never seen her before.

 

"Hello, Molly," he finally uttered.

 

She swallowed and continued her task, only briefly making eye contact again. "You were gone...a long time."

 

"I never said I wouldn't be."

 

"Yes, I know. But when you said you'd be back eventually, I never imagined-" She paused, pressing her lips together, and then met his eyes. "Two years, Captain Holmes."

 

Sherlock saw the pain in her eyes, but wasn't completely sure what it meant yet. He tried to lighten the mood. "No need for formalities, Molly. You heard John. I'm not the captain anymore."

 

She didn't respond to the lighthearted comment. "I began to think you must be dead. I mourned just like the rest of them. I had to let you go, but I had to do it all on my own...in my own way. By the time they had begun to move on with their lives my despair had only just set in." She sighed and sat back in the stool by the bed.

 

His expression softened when he saw her eyes clouding over, but he still didn't understand how she could be this hurt. Here he was, alive and well! What was there to be so forlorn about anymore?

 

Sherlock raised himself on his elbows, reading Molly's face as best he could. What was he missing?

 

"I'm back, Molly," he said softly. "I'm home now. I'm not going anywhere."

 

Molly straightened up and set her expression in a forced smile. "Yes and...I'm glad. I really am. It's just, well two years is a long time, Sherlock. You have to remember that."

 

She lifted her hand again and brought it up to his face. As she did, something caught his eye, glistening on her left ring finger. And then it all made sense.

 

As she finished cleaning him up, their eyes met again.

 

"Congratulations, Molly," he whispered, and he saw how her eyes widened at his words.

 

She took a moment to respond, freezing with her hand poised at his face, also glancing at her left hand where he'd clearly looked. Finally she pressed the cloth to his skin again and cleared her throat before speaking.

 

"Thank you," she forced out. "He's um...a good man. He has a business, and a home. It's small, but I don't mind. He's wanted to see me every time we're back in London for a while now. He's kind and just really...sorry; I don't know why I'm telling you all of this." She laughed nervously.

 

"I hope you'll be very happy, Molly Hooper...you deserve it. After all, not all the men you fall for can turn out to be pirates." He let his gaze linger on her face for longer than he should have. He knew that, but he did it anyway.

 

She stared back at him, a mix of sadness and longing in her gaze. He wondered if that was how he appeared to her at the moment...

 

Sherlock broke eye contact and lay back on the cot, staring up at the ceiling. He heard Molly get up and walk away. As she did, she said something, but he couldn't quite hear it. Or could he? It was like a memory he couldn't quite grasp hold of. He began to feel confused as he lay there, and eventually his mind clouded...

 

* * *

 

...Sherlock stirred in his leather chair, but the song still played and continued to lull him into slumber. Despite his sleep, he thought he opened his eyes. This time he saw the moon; big and bright and beautiful as it reflected against the dark ocean...

 

* * *

 

His gaze panned down, and there she was again. Molly held the wheel, gently stabilizing it and keeping things smooth.

 

Time had passed. He wasn't sure quite how much, but in the illogical setting of a dream, one doesn't question something like that. He only knew that it had been some time since the day John had practically knocked him out cold on the deck of The Mystery. 

 

She looked hauntingly serene at the helm; such a delicate creature controlling a menacingly large vessel. Her hair was slung over her shoulder in a loose braid, and she looked almost like a child playing sea captain from where Sherlock was standing.

 

Sherlock ascended the wooden steps and joined her at the helm. "I thought I left John at the wheel," he said while coming up beside her.

 

"You did." She smiled. "Mary isn't well this evening. John was just checking on her. He'll be back...oh, would you like to-"

 

"No no." Sherlock waved off her suggestion. He trusted her. Why should he need to snatch the wheel from her small but capable hands? Instead, he silently circled around the wheel, eyeing her before speaking again.

 

"So you'll be leaving." It wasn't a question. He already knew the obvious answer. It was just a matter of her confirming it.

 

She ran a hand over her skirt, smoothing it for no reason, and nodded slowly. "Yes, Sherlock, naturally I'll be leaving."

 

"Well," he said with an accompanying half smile. "I suppose I've come back just in time then."

 

Molly's eyes shot up and searched his face in what looked like panic for a moment. Then he went on.

 

"I suppose John would hardly be able to handle being captain and ship's doctor at the same time...in addition to having a child on the way. Now that I'm back he can focus on his medical responsibilities more fully again...since you won't be here."

 

Molly returned her gaze to the darkened horizon. "Yes, I suppose so," she answered very quietly.

 

Sherlock stood still and locked his hands behind his back. He looked down at her in the moonlight; her strong profile with invitingly upturned nose, the illuminated white fabric of her blouse billowing out around her arms and shoulders, and the heavier light brown fabric of her skirt swaying slightly below the leather bodice. She was a comfort, even to look at. He had missed this. He _would_ miss this...did she really have to go?

 

"Captain?" she asked, looking up at him. "Do you...remember the night you left? That is to say, I know you remember it. You wouldn't exactly forget. I just was wondering if perhaps you ever..."

 

"Of course I think of it," he answered instantly, understanding her meaning perfectly.

 

Her expression which had been so light and carefree a moment ago suddenly became heavy with emotion. She shook her head ever so slightly as she ran her eyes over his face.

 

"Why, Sherlock?" she asked, with badly concealed desperation in her voice. "Why did you do it?"

 

He knew she wasn't asking about why he left. He knew exactly what she was questioning...and he wished he could give an honest answer.

 

"I was..." He struggled to come up with something; something that would appease her and put her mind at ease. Perhaps he needed to put his own mind at ease. Best to keep it simply. "I was awfully grateful, Molly."

 

"So...gratitude?" She nodded slowly and licked her lips as she turned away again.

 

Sherlock frowned to himself. She didn't look completely at ease now. Had that been the wrong reason to give? He felt a little uneasy himself, so perhaps it hadn't been the right thing to say. But what else could he say? What else was there to say? It didn't matter anymore. None of it mattered...she would be gone soon anyway.

 

"Gratitude," he repeated softly. He hesitated to say more, but something pushed him forward. "Would it have been better if I hadn't?"

 

She looked at him again briefly, and then answered with a small frown developing between her brows. "I don't know. Sometimes I was glad you did. It...comforted me. There were other times I wished you hadn't. I wished I hadn't let you. Sometimes it was nothing but a painful memory."

 

Her words cut him. He cursed his selfishness. He hadn't given it a moment's thought at the time. He hadn't considered what it would do to her, and what she would be left with...when he'd pulled her snug against him and kissed her as if they were the last two people on earth and the world was crumbling around them.

 

"Forgive me," he said softly.

 

Molly drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. She smiled at him, and he knew she was making an effort. She was kindly sparing his feelings.

 

"There's nothing to forgive," she said in a brighter tone. "It can't be undone. I suppose I just wondered why you'd done it...not that it matters I suppose. It was so long ago. I was just curious."

 

Sherlock felt something bubbling inside him, something beneath the surface, like a coil being held down for too long. He didn't know what to do as he stood there by her side. All he knew was that he finally felt like he was home...and he was painfully aware that it had nothing to do with the ship beneath his feet...

 

* * *

 

...Sherlock's body twitched in his sleep and his head turned to one side, and then the other. His sleep was suddenly less peaceful. It felt as if he's hit a bump...

 

* * *

 

...There was a sudden lurch as the ship apparently encountered a patch of choppier water. The wheel jerked and Molly let out a small yelp as it caught her off guard.

 

In an instant, one of Sherlock's hands came up and grabbed another handle on the wheel, as his other arm looped tightly across the smooth leather around Molly's waist; steadying her in addition to the wheel. His eyes were forward toward the horizon, as any captain's eyes would be when steering his ship. But once he felt that things were calm again, he turned and looked down.

 

He gripped the handle of the wheel tighter when he saw her looking up at him. If he hadn't, he realized that he probably would have done what he actually wanted...which was to further tighten his grasp on her. Memories of the moment she'd just questioned a moment ago came flooding back, and he knew why he'd pushed them aside for so long. They were dangerous memories, which did nothing but encourage things...feelings...which should not be.

 

Reluctantly, Sherlock's fingers slid away from her waist and he took a step back. Molly's eyes were wide, and she looked as if she were holding onto the wheel for dear life now. He could see how heavily her chest would rise and fall with each breath.

 

"Sorry, I...thought the water was so calm. That caught me off guard," she said with a shaky smile.

 

"It caught me off guard as well," Sherlock answered as he looked deep into her eyes. He knew very well that he wasn't talking about the water.

 

Just then, John came up the steps.

 

"Sorry, Miss Hooper. I'm back now, I won't keep you. Hello, Sherlock." John looked back and forth between the two people who seemed to be a bit short of breath.

 

"Evening, John," Sherlock answered with a nod.

 

Molly stepped away from the wheel. "I'll be off to bed then. Goodnight," she said, quickly excusing herself, but giving Sherlock one more glance.

 

After she'd disappeared below deck, John looked at Sherlock and smiled slyly. "What was that all about?"

 

"What are you referring to?" Sherlock instantly looked defensive.

 

"I mean, what did I just walk in on?" John asked with a laugh.

 

"You walked in on nothing, John!" Sherlock answered with a huff. "Just because you are married and expecting a child doesn't mean that everyone around you is in the throes of passion!"

 

John laughed again and shook his head. "I'm glad you're back, for her sake actually."

 

Sherlock frowned. "What? Why?"

 

"Well, I suppose it's ironic in hindsight, considering the fact that she knew you hadn't died at all. But the truth of the matter is that she took your 'death' perhaps harder than any of us. I thought the woman would never smile again! And it's a miracle she accepted Tom's proposal of marriage a few months ago. A year went by, and almost another whole year, and yet she continued to mourn your absence. Plenty of heads turn when Molly Hooper walks by...but she couldn't be bothered to notice."

 

Sherlock kept his eyes fixed out on the water as he listened to John speak.

 

John peered closer at Sherlock. "Sherlock...she loves you."

 

Sherlock's eyes shot over to John for a moment. "She did...once."

 

"No, I mean she loves you still," he said more emphatically. "You do realize she was waiting for you, don't you?"

 

Sherlock looked back at the water and said nothing. The idea rolled around in his head like unstoppable waves.

 

"Did you...give her any reason to wait for you? Any reason to hope?" John asked, looking a little suspicious.

 

Sherlock pressed his lips together and looked at John only briefly out of the corner of his eyes.

 

John's laughter began again. "You did, didn't you? Sherlock, do you have any idea what you're doing? I mean do keep in mind that you're about to lose her unless you act quickly."

 

He hesitated, taking a moment to finally get words out. "I never had her, John. I can't lose something I never had."

 

John wasn't laughing anymore. His tone changed along with his friend's. "I don't know if I agree with that. I think you've always had her, and you still do. I don't know anything about it, I suppose. All I do know is...I've never seen you look at anyone the way I just saw you looking at Molly Hooper when I came up these stairs. And for what it's worth, I've never see her look at anyone else like that either."

 

Sherlock looked at John for a moment, noting how serious he was. He felt the boat begin rocking more heavily after that...he closed his eyes, somehow hoping that would steady his mind. The spinning continued though, and he felt like he was falling...

 

* * *

 

...Sherlock grumbled a little in his leather chair. He was too uncomfortable to remain deeply asleep, but he hadn't quite woken yet. It was almost as if he wanted to wake and couldn't. He wasn't done yet...

* * *

 

...The next thing he knew, he was below decks in his ship, water up to his ankles and a frequent booming of canons in the background. He shoved crates aside and examined significant damage to the hull. John came rushing down the stairs.

 

"Sherlock, get out of here! There's nothing you can do, we have to abandon ship! I've got Mary and the rest of the crew ready, and we'll leave once you get in."

 

"I'm not coming with you, John," he answered, without even looking up.

 

John did a double take. "What? Sherlock you can't- no! Absolutely not! We're not leaving without you!"

 

Sherlock splashed over with wild eyes. "Yes you are! I am commanding you, as captain, to take the crew, including your pregnant wife, and leave this ship immediately! You will leave without me, or I can promise you that you will not escape with your lives anyway. They want _me,_ John! They don't want any of you! I'm the one who killed Captain Magnussen, and no one else. It was my decision, and only I will answer for it."

 

Poor John was panicked, looking around him as if he'd find the magical solution somewhere in the midst of the chaos. "We...we can't..." he attempted, but with less force this time.

 

"Yes you can! You can!" Sherlock repeated, grabbing his shoulders and looking him in the eyes. "Give my love to Mary, John...tell her she's safe now."

 

John clenched his jaw tight, holding back the words and emotions that threatened to break through. Instead, he pulled Sherlock in, forcing him into an uncharacteristic hug which took a moment to be returned. After that, Sherlock pushed him away again.

 

"Go, John," he said sternly. "Get them all out of here."

 

John gave him a nod of understanding and forced himself to turn and walk away without looking back again.

 

Sherlock only spared a minute to watch his best friend walk away and leave him behind. Then he went back to the task at hand...if there really was any task left. He knew he would have to let his ship go, along with any treasure that was currently on it. He could do little else but try to save his own skin, and he wasn't even sure that was possible now.

 

He was about to head back up on deck to take care of what he could, but then he heard footsteps approaching and descending the steps. Sherlock drew his pistol and pointed it, but he was completely horrified when Molly came into view.

 

"What are you doing here?" he asked frantically, as he replaced the pistol in his belt. "The boat is leaving soon! Why aren't you on it?!"

 

Another canon boomed and Molly jumped, but her expression was nothing short of determined as she answered him.

 

"No, it isn't leaving soon...it's already left."

 

Sherlock's eyes went wide. "What?! What do you mean its left? It can't have! I told John to take everyone and go! Obviously that included you!" He began trudging through the water over to the steps, but Molly grabbed his arm, turning him back again.

 

"Don't bother; I said they're already gone! They've gone, and I chose to stay. I made them leave without me."

 

His eyes burned with something like rage. "This is not your battle to fight! This is my battle and no one el-"

 

_Crack!_

The contact of her palm against his cheek shocked him so much that at first he didn't even realize what had happened. He lifted his hand to lightly touch the skin of his face as he processed the fact that Molly Hooper had just slapped him yet again.

 

 _Again_? Had this happened before?

 

"I won't let you do this to yourself, Sherlock!" she hissed. "You will not take this on all alone. I am here with you whether you like it or not!"

 

Sherlock found his voice again but because he was still at a bit of a loss, he went with the old standby of a cutting comment.

 

"My apologies for the heartbreaking pain of your recently broken engagement, Molly, but if you think you're going to take this opportunity to _quite literally_ drown your sorrows, well it's not going to happen on my watch!" he growled.

 

"How dare you? This isn't about Tom! This is about you, Sherlock. It's about you and me! And if you can't see that by now..." Her voice trailed off and she pressed her lips together, trying to regain control.

 

Sherlock glanced away from her face momentarily, seeing that the water was now reaching halfway to his knees. He looked back up to meet her watery gaze as she went on.

 

"Do you know how many times I cried myself to sleep, wishing to God that I had forced you to let me leave with you those years ago? I spent my nights crying, and my days thinking of you. And I did that, all the while knowing that you probably weren't giving me a second thought! But I couldn't help it. That didn't change how I felt, because what I feel runs far too deep to be uprooted...even by you."

 

She winced again as another canon fired, but looked back at him to continue. "I know you think that I shouldn't still love you. And I'm sure you think I shouldn't bother telling you. But I'd still feel it, even if I remained silent. I see no sense in that, especially now. I tried to let it go, and hold my tongue, and let you think that I'd moved on...but I can't do it anymore."

 

She took a step forward and cradled his face, placing her cool palm against the skin that still burned from the inflicted slap.

 

"If this is where you are, if you insist on staying right here," she whispered. "I'll go down with this ship. Because I'm in love with you...and I always will be."

 

Sherlock swallowed hard. He felt a shiver go through him, and he wasn't sure it was from the chill of the water that was almost up to his knees now. How had he missed this for so long? No...He hadn't missed it really. He knew, he always knew she loved him. And hadn't he buried it deep simply to protect himself, and protect her? The idea that she could feel this way about him, that is held such a power over her and her very life, was terrifying in the extreme. And hadn't he always been equally terrified of feeling the same? He'd push her away, somehow hoping that such a thing wouldn't rub off, be absorbed as if by osmosis.

 

Emotion came in a rush, like the water gushing through the side of his ill-fated ship. He reached forward wrapping his hand around the back of her neck and pulling her in, meeting her to press his forehead against hers and shut his eyes with relief at the overwhelming sense of comfort. He couldn't imagine feeling more serene and content, which was ironic since they were both likely to die soon. That didn't feel real somehow...but the love that rushed through his veins was nothing short of palpable.

 

If he imagined the moment couldn't be any more blissful, he was about to be proved wrong. Molly tilted her face forward and caught his lips gently. She moved slowly, as if they had all the time in the world, tasting his lips thoroughly before urging the kiss on.  Their lips parted and mouths connected, deepening the kiss even as Sherlock felt the water around their legs growing deeper by the second.

 

The taste of her mouth...so familiar. The precise way her little lips moved and instantly tugged at his own...he'd felt it before. How could he forget? Wasn't it just like this when he'd left before? When he'd left before...

 

He pulled back and looked into her big brown eyes. For just an instant, the ship around them dissolved, and was replaced by the inside of a hospital...Bart's hospital.

 

He blinked and it was gone. He felt a panic growing, and confusion creeping in. It happened again, the scenery changing before his eyes. He shook his head and shut his eyes for a moment before opening them once more. And then it happened a third time.

 

"This...isn't real," he breathed out, searching her face for some sort of explanation. He was unnerved to see her face remain completely serene.

 

"Of course it's real Sherlock." She smiled, placing her palm against his chest, and he felt his heard hammering against it. "This is as real as it gets."

 

Sherlock's eyes darted around him as the scenery crumbled again, this time completely, placing them in the darkened sterile hallway of Bart's hospital. He looked at her and watched as the woman before him transformed into someone he knew...Dr. Molly Hooper, standing there in her ill-fitting clothes and lab coat, her signature ponytail gracing her head and cascading down her back. But the same brown eyes continued staring at him, the only thing unchanged.

 

"I...I don't understand..." he stammered, desperately seeking clarity. “If this isn't real, why do I remember it?"

 

Molly gave him a small smile that made her eyes twinkle. "Some things can't be forever deleted, can they? You do understand. I already told you...I will go down with this ship."

 

He frowned. "Ship? But we're not on a ship anymore. We're here...but none of this is real! This is a dream!" he insisted.

 

Molly's expression turned sadder, as if he'd disappointed her. "Sherlock, please don't forget. You forgot once, but you mustn't forget again. We can't go on like this."

 

"Forget? Forget what? Molly, tell me what you mean!" he demanded desperately. "Tell me what I mustn't forget!"

 

Her eyes clouded over and her expression turned blank as she caressed his face. "I'll go down with this ship. I'm in love…and always will be."

 

In the second she finished speaking, everything crashed in around him.

 

Suddenly he was back inside his ship and the water came in like a tidal wave. He coughed and sputtered and reached for her, but she had already gone under. Before he even had time to think, the water was above his head. His lungs burned and the pressure on his chest was like the weight of an anvil...and he could just make out her shape floating some feet away. But it was Molly, as she always was, her lab coat billowing around her and ponytail floating straight out from her head. He couldn't reach her...he tried, but couldn't quite get there.

 

The pain became intense, and just as he opened his mouth and gulped in what he desperately wished was fresh air and felt it burning his throat...

 

* * *

 

...Sherlock's eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright in his chair, clutching at his chest and taking violent gulps of air. He took a moment to slow his respirations, and calm his heart rate. Finally, he fell back against his chair again and let out a sigh of relief at his familiar surroundings illuminated by the early morning sunshine. He'd rarely experienced such a realistic and terrifying dream.

 

Though, it wasn't all terrifying.

 

He glanced down at his lap, seeing the little iPod that was now silent. He touched the button and only received an alert to connect it to a power source before the screen went black again.

 

He violently ripped the ear buds from his ears and stuck the device back in his pocket. He laid his head back and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself some more. But then his eyes burst open again and he lifted his head.

 

The name of the playlist, CD. _Oh..._

 

Of course, how could he have missed that? At the same time though, he was impressed with her intelligent cover up. It had almost fooled even him. _Very clever, Molly Hooper!_

CD didn't stand for Compact Disk...It stood for _Consulting Detective._ This was _his_ playlist.

 

A fire ignited inside Sherlock and he jumped out of his chair, grabbing his Belstaff and flying out the door as he shoved the iPod and earbuds back in his pocket. It was a matter of minutes before he was flying along the streets of London in a cab on his way to Bart's hospital...

 

* * *

 

Molly was just about to don her gloves when the morgue doors swung open with a crash against the wall.

 

"Sherlock!" she said after jumping in surprise. "God, you scared me!"

 

He marched over to her and reached in his pocket, took out her iPod and earbuds and shoved them toward her.

 

Molly slowly took them from his hand. "Oh, did I leave these? I was wondering where they'd gone. Um...thanks." She saw him continuing to stare intensely at her, and wondered if something was wrong.

 

"Forgive me, Molly," he breathes out.

 

Her brow knitted a bit. "Forgive you? Why? What for?"

 

His voice cracked as he answered. "I...deleted it...and I'm sorry."

 

"Deleted...what?" she asked cautiously.

 

He took a step towards her. "I needed to delete it, Molly. I couldn't go away, do what must be done, and stay away for as long as I did if I hadn't. But I suppose I couldn't keep the memory away, could I? Some things can't be forever deleted." He reached up and very softly touched her cheek.

 

Molly's breathe came quickly, and her eyes widened as she realized what he must be talking about. She'd pushed the memory aside as well, if she were honest. She'd have gone mad if she hadn't. But he was right. How could either of them forget, really forget? It had been far too life changing to erase.

 

Sherlock had barely ever touched her before that. And all of a sudden, in that darkened hallway of Bart's basement, he had pulled her almost painfully tight against him and kissed her like it was the last and most important thing he had to do. There was so much passion in that kiss; she was left in a daze after he'd walked away. And that was the last time she saw him...till he appeared like a ghost in the women's locker room some two years later.

 

"I thought you were just...I assumed that it was..." she began, her voice shaking a bit.

 

"Gratitude?" he offered.

 

Molly nodded.

 

"Perhaps that's what I hoped you think. It might have even been what I tried to convince myself of. But that's a lie, Molly." His eyes bore into hers, convincing her even more fully of his sincerity. He went on.

 

"And I might have gone on as I was...had you not reminded me."

 

A smile began to creep onto her lips as she looked up at him. "Did I?" she questioned.

 

"You did. And perhaps I'll tell you the tale someday. It's actually quite an adventure." He smirked at the things he could share with her.

 

"Oh? How clever of me, considering I knew nothing of this," she said in a laughing tone as he closed the distance between them.

 

Sherlock leaned down to rest his forehead against hers, and felt the same comforting serenity that he's experienced in his mind only hours before.

 

"Oh and, Molly?"

 

"Hmm?" she hummed, eyes closed now as she enjoyed the moment.

 

"You'll need to charge your iPod...I may have completely worn down the battery listened to it all through last night."

 

Her eyes flew open and her eyebrow shot up.

 

"What?"

 

Sherlock smiled at her adorably confused expression, but decided against explaining himself in that moment. Instead, he kissed her. He kissed her like he had all those years before, like he had in his dreams...

 

And like he would for the rest of his life.


End file.
